Welcome to Spill the Source. A series where things start to get really interesting. For now it’s free for everyone, eventually it won’t be.

Finding the one has been part of my job for years. Whether it’s been sourcing for shoots in London, New York, Paris or Venice, the process is always the same. Sift through hundreds of almost-right objects until you find the one. It requires patience and persistence in equal measure. You keep looking and looking until you find that one, perfect object which makes the whole thing fit together.

I’ve decided to kick off with Etsy and give it the same treatment. A mission which has involved a number of distracting side quests, as is Etsy’s way, but here finally, an edit of what has particularly caught my eye.

If you’d like me to trawl for treasure elsewhere, drop me a note in the comments with any suggestions below.

More soon,

Twig x

I can vividly remember the toy box in my room growing up. My mother had covered it in Laura Ashley pale blue and lemon floral fabric. There was a generous frill around the base and a padded seat cushion on top. One day in 1991, I sat on the blue carpet floor and emptied it of all of my toys. They had lost all interest to me. Why? Because I had discovered Vogue.

Before that moment, I had spent my childhood passionately interested in all the things one might expect for a young girl at the time. Ponies - obvs, Madonna and Tammy Girl - obvs. (Anyone remember Dash rubber men sweatshirts?) I joined the Hedgehog Preservation Society and had a large collection of ceramic frogs. But now, things were different. The only thing I was interested in was Vogue.

It was like Alice down the rabbit hole and there was no turning back. I was utterly spellbound. It wasn’t just the models, who by this stage were officially super, it was the clothes, the craftsmanship and the storytelling in all the adverts and editorials. It even smelled glamorous. Back then perfume samples were attached to the pages so when you peeled the label back for a sniff, your issue would forever smell of Chanel No 5 or Dune by Dior. The story I remember most vividly even now, was ‘Send in the Gowns’ in the October issue of 1991. It debuted the latest Haute Couture collections featuring Linda Evangelista shot by Patrick Demarchelier. I’ll refrain from spamming you with superlatives and pause so that you too can marvel at its greatness.

I remember walking into the garden with my hair scraped into a side parting bun trying desperately to be Christy Turlington and my older sister taking one look at me and bursting out laughing. It really wasn’t the vibe for cycling to the shop in a rural Dorset village back then. Yet I was undeterred. On trips to London I pleaded to be taken to Bond Street. I pressed my face against the windows and watched on as monied women shopped, served by the “You only work in a shop you know - you can quit the attitude” shop assistants of Absolutely Fabulous fame. I watched ‘The Look’, a six part docu series about the fashion world on repeat and continuing the Christy obsession, I got a dress from Next for my 16th birthday which I still have today.

By the 6th form the world revolved around Kate Moss and Tom Ford arrived at Gucci. I had the campaign imagery all over my walls and this time, now fully committed to the cause, got my hair cut just like Amber Valletta. I can still remember spending ages with my barrel brush blow drying the ends to curl up! Writing this I laughed thinking of my daughter heading to uni in the autumn. I wonder if she will adopt my sartorial ways for her first day of Freshers week? A brown, two piece John Smedley merino number I’ll thank you very much. Wide leg trousers and a matching short sleeved turtle neck with block heel loafers. Reader be assured she will be in Doc Martens and baggy jeans which on balance I think is best.

Anyway, back to me. Before long I was on the train to London to visit my beloved Bond Street and hang out at Dick’s Bar in Atlantic Bar & Grill. To be clear I was not a woman of financial means but what were student loans for after all but for buying beige suede boot leg trousers from Jigsaw? They came to a sorry end when my boyfriend spilled salad dressing on them at the bar in the DKNY store but let’s not get distracted by this minor detail.

Come the summer of 1997, aged 19 and in need of finance (you think?) I walked into the Joseph store on Old Bond Street and asked for a job. A ballsy move, I know, but I was bolstered by my success at the posh clothes shop in my local town where I had sold a £500 three piece Marella suit much to the irritation of the manager. “Well, I still haven’t decided if I’m going to keep you on after your trial”. Reader, I sold the suit.

I don’t recall what I said in my interview but whatever bravado I churned out it did the trick and I was offered a job. Back then, Joseph wasn’t just a shop. It looked like an art gallery and yes, it was where the fashion world shopped, but it was also where stylists and architects and gallery owners shopped. It was like a concept store before there were any concept stores. It didn’t just sell Joseph, they stocked Missoni and Comme des Garçons and Alaïa. As if that wasn’t enough, the job also meant that you were given a uniform. I’d been burned by the uniform situation before working in The Acorn Inn having to wear a short sleeved polyester shirt and a red satin bow tie but now, NOW I got to wear a black satin trouser suit. The suit in question would have set you back about five or six hundred pounds, well over a grand in today’s money. Striding up and down the store as Café del Mar blared from the speakers I felt like I had made it.

The job was far more than just spritzing myself with the signature perfume (remember the box with the silver lips?) or folding endless jumpers. I got to try on all of the clothes because we HAD to. It was our job to know how the clothes fitted. Before the store opened we regularly had what were essentially fitting lessons with the manager so that we understood exactly the cut and length of each piece. One of us tried on all the pairs of trousers and we discussed what shape would be most flattering for what body type. We learned about what went with what be it a chunky knit over some leather trousers or a blazer with a silk shirt and cigarette pants. The revelation was that each day you then got to see all the customers trying them on so you saw over and over again what worked and what didn’t. Joseph clothes in essence were about fabric, cut and proportion and they appealed to women who cared about clothes rather than fashion. A gentleman of diminished stature walked into the shop one day and was smoking a cigar. I was about to tell him to put it out when the penny dropped. It was Joseph Ettedgui himself.

A lot happened in 1997. Tragically, Gianni Versace was shot outside his home on the 15th of July. It was genuinely shocking and the morning after we all laid flowers at the door of the Versace store over the road from Joseph. I wore black and my DKNY sunglasses permanently for the rest of the week as an act of mourning. It was the summer that Blur and Oasis were at war and Patsy Kensit had just married Liam Gallagher. You can imagine the excitement when one morning she walked into the store. Obviously I wasn’t allowed to serve her. The sharp elbowed older girls saw to that. They helped her buy a variety of raincoats and I remember being astonished when she asked if they could be sent to her later in the day so she didn’t have to carry her bags around. No prizes for guessing who volunteered to take the black cab to Supernova Heights to deliver them to her. I hoped for Liam at the door but was inevitably greeted by the housekeeper. Even the store itself was not immune to some 90s style drama. The security guard got sacked for stealing Alain Mikli sunglasses from the store and then two of the other girls were sacked having been rather indiscreet with their cocaine at a party attended, unbeknown to them, by the higher ups at Joseph.

I returned to university that autumn even more convinced that black satin cigarette trousers, a little lilacy pink Benetton sweater and a pair of suede (Pied a Terre) mules was an entirely normal outfit for a 10am lecture. Indeed, I must not forget the accessories. An Elsa Peretti silver coffee bean necklace and a Hervé Chapelier canvas bag all with my trusty DKNY sunglasses. By now it was in my bones and amazingly I was entirely unbothered by what my fellow peers thought. That was a problem for them and their tie-dyed T-shirts, not for me.

Studying History of Art at university meant that I did an awful lot of looking. We were constantly analysing and discussing and researching. You had to notice things. I got to spend a term living in Venice which meant that three days a week we were exploring and being taught about the treasures of Renaissance Venice. The rest of the time was spent drinking and smoking but I did find time for some shopping. I remember finding a little antique shop and in a corner behind a screen I discovered a box full of vintage cardigans and silk nighties. My friend stood bored to tears in her combat trousers as I rifled through. I left with two cardigans - one in pale blue cashmere with butterflies embroidered in straw ribbon and the other in cream with tiny pearls in bouquets of flowers. That may well have also been the start of my obsession with antique markets but that is definitely for another day. By the end of my course I managed even to shoehorn my love of fashion into my dissertation. I wrote about the rise of Heroin Chic and feminist theory and the female grotesque. It involved hours spent reading The Face and i-D in the art school library. My tutor raised an eyebrow. I considered it to be important academic research.

I confess there have been moments over the past six months where the 90s resurgence has slightly annoyed me. I felt like this is my vibe to the core and I don’t want it to be trending. What I’ve realised though is that it’s not really about trends and it’s not even really about the 90s. When I think back to those early morning fitting room lessons I realise it’s about the difference between clothes and fashion. Fashion moves on, but clothes in the right fabric with the right cut don’t. I’ve been wearing versions of the same thing since I was 19 and I’ll still be dressing like that when everyone else has moved on.

More soon.

Twig x

For anyone still with me here’s some extended reading:

NY Times - Shopping in the ‘90s: Superstar Comeback of Bond Street

The Times - Meet the man reviving 1990s fashion favourite Joseph

Vogue - How Joseph Became A Fashion Editor Favourite (Again)

Finally be sure to keep for eyes peeled for when AW26 drops because shit’s about to get good again.

We’re at that point in the year where big purchases feel premature. The autumn collections are coming…but, sometimes you just need to scratch a shopping itch and the price point at M&S makes that entirely justified.

Within minutes I discovered with great delight that the satin camisole I bought last year and wore constantly is back. Go one size up and you’ll find yourself with something very close to a Rohé or Toteme situation for about a tenth of the price. Buoyed by that discovery, what was meant to be a quick wander of the ground floor became an entire store sift and search. My findings are below.

I did look at the homeware but I’m going to say that from what I saw, more work needs to be done to get it up to the level of the fashion.

While we’re on the subject of satin I also found these. Like the camisole they have a very pleasing weight to them. They come in cream, brown and black and have a distinctly Phoebe Philo / Zoe Kravitz vibe about them.

This cotton poplin skirt was in my ShopMy having spotted it online. I’ve already had a message from someone who bought it attesting to its greatness.

My sister is on the hunt for a pair of gold sandals and so when I saw these I tried them on. Loving a super low heel at the moment. My verdict: they look and feel more expensive than they are and I’m recommending.

The central shoe department offered more delights. Be sure to keep your eye out for when the black pony hair corkbed mules arrive, they’re currently only in store. If you’re quick you can also bag these rope sandals which have been all over the press and for good reason. Online stock looks rather patchy but sign up for a restock or head into a store.

I am excited about this find. Strictly speaking it’s a pyjama top but I’d be wearing it as a summer shirt. I am of the opinion that you can never have too many pale blue shirts.

I actually spotted the bottoms first. Really good. As with many of these recommendations, size up.

If you’re looking for styling tips for the blue shirt then pair it with these excellent pure cotton boxer style shorts. I got a very similar pair from M&S last summer and wore them loads.

Last but not least it wouldn’t be M&S if there wasn’t some underwear in the mix. Summer in bra form. It comes in lots of colours and styles so if you’re not flat chested like me you can still join the pale blue lime green party. Never been so pleased to flash a bra strap.

I've just realised everything in this edit is £30 or under. See what I mean about scratching that shopping itch?

More soon,

Twig x

Holland Park has always been one of my favourite corners of London. It’s very smart, think massive white stucco houses and leafy avenues, but resolutely old-school, old money. Full of people who could be considerably more flash but have collectively decided that’s a bit gauche.

The evening was peak heatwave. Drinks in the garden were largely an exercise in comparing notes on survival strategies: which fans work best, have you tried freezing your pyjamas or sleeping in the basement. In search of respite, I popped into the lower ground floor kitchen to discover it was the sort that dreams are made of. Huge flagstones. Massive refectory style table. An olive green glazed dresser with glazed doors leading to a hidden sitting room beyond. It has been lodged firmly in my ‘things I can’t stop thinking about’ file ever since.

The pelargoniums in the garden drew almost as much attention. A group of us gathered around in mutual admiration of the chic, deep maroon colour and I have since spent an unreasonable amount of time attempting to identify the precise variety. Feel free to enlighten me should you be of horticultural occupation.

The evening had been organised to raise awareness of Fine Cell Work, a charity that teaches needlework to people in prison and the only way many inmates can earn money while inside. The numbers when you hear them are quietly staggering: reoffending drops to 2%, against a national average of 30%. Each prisoner costs the taxpayer between £51,000 and £60,000 a year. A needle and thread it turns out, is doing more for some people than the entire system around them.

During one of the speeches, our host Jane Mulvagh spoke about some of the inmates encountering beauty for the first time in their lives through the work of the charity. We tend to dismiss beauty as something decorative, sometimes frivolous; a luxury rather than a necessity. That one sentence has stayed with me. It seems important to remember that beauty can also be restorative and that sometimes it is the first indication that someone believes you are worth caring about.

We were called for dinner to a drawing room that had been cleared of all furniture and now housed only six large round tables. Each was beautifully laid and had florl centrepieces artfully unarranged by the wonderfully named Tizy Wellesley Wesley. My stylist’s eyes noted in particular the place cards handwritten in blue fountain pen and the softly faded sage green carpet. Two details which are gloriously old school proper posh and I’m absolutely here for it.

I found myself on a table with Val Garland, a make-up artist to, at this point, most of the known world. I was eager to know the precise details of the £7 Primark foundation which we had been hearing from Lucinda Chambers was a mega ‘Val’ recommendation and which she had made her first ever trip to Primark to get her hands on. This is not a woman whose opinion on such matters one ignores. I successfully gleaned that it’s the Pro Illuminating Foundation and I am most certainly going to try it. There was also much excited chatter about Lucinda’s monthly column for India Knight’s Substack and her latest Zara purchase - a dress that retails at £39.99 and which she was proudly wearing at the dinner. These are two women who have spent careers immersed in the world of high fashion and yet both were extolling the considerable virtues of the high street. I found this to be enormously cheering.

Later that week I headed to the Pimlico Road summer party. An annual tradition of sorts. All the shops hold drinks parties but all roads lead to Jamb. They throw the best parties with the best music and the best company. I had elected to cycle as an optimal mode of transport in the heat - if there is no breeze you have to generate your own after all. My excellent new Laila Gohar x Arket skirt it turned out, was not designed with this in mind. What followed was less cycling and more a kind of restricted, awkward pedalling - knees together, optimism high, praying for no rippage. I arrived intact. Just.

One final London note. I need to talk to you about the bathrooms at Kensington Roof Gardens. I was there for a press lunch. I’ve never been before and in the blazing sunshine it was glorious. I had not, though, expected the loo situation to be quite so fabulous. We’re talking full on Art Deco. Lacquered ceiling, vast central chrome framed mirrors. A glamorous set up that makes you feel as if you’re aboard a cruise ship where a murder mystery might plausibly unfold. Go.

Finally. I have given in and started a ShopMy page. It is, I’ll admit, still rather sparse. This is largely because I am ferociously selective about what earns a place here and that sort of editing takes TIMMMEEE. I’ve added the contents of my make-up bag, some wardrobe staples and summer suggestions and a few home things which I think are very good. I will continue adding to it as and when something earns its place.

Consider it a living document.

More soon.

Twig x

A second instalment of Properly Good. Not necessarily new, not always affordable and certainly not all essential, but all things that have earned a place in my brain for one reason or another. Some were spotted on shoots, some recommended by friends and others have been sitting on my wish list for an embarrassingly long time.

In a vague attempt at fiscal responsibility, I decided against my annual Smythson diary this year. A decision I was briefly quite pleased with and have since come to deeply regret. The wafer-thin, palest-blue pages are calling me. The mid-year edition is looking increasingly tempting.

My standout discovery from the recent Basic Space exhibition wasn't a piece of furniture but the work of jewellery artist Eliz Fan. I spent an inordinate amount of time looking at her pieces and kept finding myself drifting back, particularly to the Broken Ring. It’s cast in solid sterling silver and is chunky and uneven in the best possible way. It feels closer to something found than fabricated. I picked up her catalogue, went home, looked through her previous collections and now I'm obsessed.

An object for people who enjoy a good backstory. These are carved from remnants of marble left over from the making of Jamb's chimneypieces, meaning no two are ever the same. Inspired by Grand Tour antiquities and hand-carved by craftsmen, they feel less like candlesticks and more like tiny architectural fragments. Completely unnecessary. Completely excellent.

You’ve almost certainly seen this before. Properly Good is just that: not always new, just very good. Read about it, bought it, confirming it is indeed the perfect white T-shirt. This one now lives on a hanger for best; I have approximately three of these Cos ones for everything else.

Scarlett Supple showed me these during a T Magazine shoot at her house before they launched and I immediately made a mental note. I see a lot of ceramics through work, on shoots, in prop houses and in the homes of stylish folk, so it takes quite a lot for a plate to lodge itself in my brain. These did. Handmade in collaboration with ceramicist Ho Lai of Fire & Earth, they have the perfect amount of irregularity and a beautiful glaze. There are pasta bowls and ice cream cups too if the above hasn’t already piqued your interest.

If Turner taught us anything, it's that a strategic flash of red improves almost everything. My feeling is that the same applies to getting dressed. Handmade in London from vintage silk sourced from Japan and France, this one looks considerably more expensive than it is and comes from a tiny Etsy studio rather than a glossy New York flagship. Quite possibly the perfect summer bag.

I was gifted these recently and when I tell you they have brought me a disproportionate amount of joy, I am not exaggerating. As someone with a sizeable knitwear collection, discovering scented papers specifically for wool felt like the sort of niche luxury I could wholeheartedly get behind. Buy them for yourself or for the chicest person you know.

Extracted from a conversation with Elliot, who cuts my hair, while pleading for his best tips for looking like a swishy Seville show pony between salon visits. He was quite clear that while these brushes are expensive, these are THE ones. Frizzy pit pony be gone. Feria, here I come.

I used this while styling a project by interior designers Nice Projects and there was much discussion on set about how it was about to become an immediate purchase for all concerned. The quality is excellent and it has a whiff of brands charging considerably more. I suspect I've reached the end of my white towel era.

Groundbreaking, I know. But I'm determined to keep this column honest rather than recommending obscure things for the sake of it. I was gifted this at Salone last year and it hasn't left my handbag since. It smells completely divine and it cheers me up every time I use it. Restocking imminently.

1. Chanels Métier D’Art and an Etsy Rabbit Hole

This collection has been firmly lodged in my brain for months. Why? (If you haven’t seen it watch the whole show on You Tube and we can form a discussion group). It scratches several itches at once for me. The clothes are glamorous but wearable, a crewneck with a sequin pencil skirt, a trench thrown over your handbag, denim paired with extraordinary jewellery. But, most importantly, it feels FUN. When you wake up and think who do I want to be today you’ve got options. And all of them are great. A Venetian countess. A 1950s screen siren. An Upper East Side eccentric with an alarming brooch collection. A Tribeca gallerist with excellent taste in both art and earrings or a college girl with great hair and a quarter zip who might get scouted on the subway.

The vast majority of us are not on a Chanel salary, so my solution is to shop my own wardrobe (you could also dip into your mother’s) before disappearing down an Etsy rabbit hole. I cannot recommend entering “Art Deco bird earrings” into the search bar highly enough. I spent a very pleasurable hour scrolling. The results are above. You’re looking for a jacket that appears to have belonged to someone called Contessa Fiametta della Roccaforte.

2. Not Enough People Have Art in their Bathrooms

   If you’re on Instagram you’ll know I’m very taken with this house, but it also serves as a very useful illustration to my long-held belief that not enough people have art in their bathrooms.

   I’m sure it stems from an ingrained notion of dampness damaging paper. To which I would say: have you heard of an extractor fan? If it bothers you that much stick to oil paintings but I am firmly of the opinion that the bathroom is one of the most important rooms in which to have very good art. What could be nicer than lounging in your tub with a geranium on the bath rack with proper time to contemplate your collection? If you look closely you’ll see that the Erdem household heartily concur, having hung works on cupboard fronts and doors as well as the walls. Take a leaf out of their chic book and get your hammer out.

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3. Andrea Sham’s Individual Pavlovas

   I've had these saved since November. Repetition is one of the oldest styling tricks in the book; one thing, repeated over and over for maximum visual impact. I'm increasingly convinced the same could apply to pudding. Currently planning an entire menu starting with these. If you don’t follow her already, might I suggest that you should.

   

4. Yellow Mesh Slippers

   I had absolutely no need for yellow mesh Venetian slippers. Then Le Monde Béryl launched them and they're now stuck in my head. There’s a Mayfair pop-up if you feel inclined to study them in real life. Their sale is equally problematic. The tiger print pair I had been stalking on Vinted now has 50% off in my size... Anyone unswayed by my Metier d’Art-induced eccentricity can stick to sensible black but be sure you make it shiny

   

5. Whistler at Tate Britain

   I went to this exhibition today. I’ve been obsessed with his work ever since I was doing art A Level and I’m thrilled my eldest daughter appears equally fascinated.

   I’m here for all of it. The subject matter, the Japanese woodblock print influence, the muted colour palettes, the multiple transparent layers of paint, the gestural brushstrokes which focus on atmosphere rather than realism. I won’t bore on (my husband is an artist and art teacher and I studied History of Art at univeristy. We have a strict agreement not to talk to each other during exhibitions so we don’t bore each other to death. Discussion is permitted only once we’ve finished looking).

   I will definitely go again but today I was unexpectedly taken reading some of the wall text and just how contemporary Whistler was. He rejected the prevailing Victorian tastes of the day and instead created rooms that looked radically different to those around him (sparse, with artefacts from East and South Asia, if you’re interested). He also allowed his studio space to be a place where work and his social life collided. He invited journalists, artists and fashionable society to dinner parties and studio breakfasts. Reading that it could very easily be Instagram in 2026.

   The lesson, perhaps, is that the most interesting people don’t follow fashion too closely. They pay attention to what's happening around them and then quietly decide to do something else.

   More soon

   Twig x

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I’m not yet entirely sure on the exact parameters of this Substack, it is somewhat a work in progress, but what I do know is that a core ‘content pillar’ if you will (in branding speak) is what I see and what I notice and I noticed a lot in this particular week in May. One thing in particular kept cropping up.

Lately I’ve found myself increasingly drawn to spaces that make you want to stay longer than strictly necessary. Whether it’s a clinic, a salon or a hotel, the places I’ve enjoyed most recently all seem to share the same quality. They make you feel less like a client and more like a guest. Less intimidation, more hospitality. As it turned out, this became something of a theme throughout the week.

I was booked in to see Dr Karen Doherty at her new clinic in Shoreditch. Facial treatment clinics historically might bring to mind white walls, ultra bright lights - kind of posh dentist surgery vibes, Hello magazines fanned out, a strategically placed orchid. Well this space is a world away from that. The interiors are by gallerist and interior designer Max Radford and draw on old Italian gallery spaces and 1970’s minimalism. The appeal here being entirely obvious, you can see why I felt the need to pay her a visit.

Walking downstairs into the reception area I discovered an expansive reception area anchored by a vast sofa and a pair of Le Corbusier LC1 chairs. The treatment room itself was minimal and clinical but, in the best possible way. After an extensive conversation on the benefits of Rexonage and some botox for the elevenses, I left pondering how clever it all was. My experience started as soon as I walked through the front door. Even going to the loo was ‘a thing’.

A few days later an appointment at George Northwood’s in Holland Park for a chop and some colour prompted similar thoughts. How nice it feels to visit somewhere and feel you are in a home rather than some sort of treatment centre, especially in this case when the furniture has been sourced from 8 Holland Street.

Even getting my hair washed there was a feast for my eyes in the form of a tiny brass Rose Uniake wall light and a vintage Japanese folding screen.

The week ended with a party to celebrate the opening of the new Zetter in Bloomsbury where the very clever James Waterworth of Thurstan has worked his magic on the interior (I’d had a sneak peek pre-opening when I got to style a shoot for them). Far from your standard hotel fare, the concept is that of a well-travelled friend now residing somewhere between Bloomsbury and the British Museum.

If you can remember anything pre heatwave, you will recall that the British weather set a classic spring sartorial challenge. Sunshine and quite warm one minute, then a downpour and actually quite chilly the next. With lunch at the Garden Museum cafe to celebrate Them Outdoor’s exhibition for London Craft Week to attend I feel that after a good deal of thought I navigated this quite well.

A thin merino polo neck sweater (old Jigsaw), full cream midi skirt in cotton but quite thick fabric (old Zara), classic Gucci loafers in case of puddles and then the slimmest suggestion of colour with my Rejina Pyo buttermilk bag. A rather pleasing Vinted purchase but for those with a thing for buttery, soft yellow creams I’ve found one on Vestiaire here.

The cafe at the Garden Museum remains one of my favourite lunch spots in the city. It’s partly because the food is so good but it’s also the setting. It’s a little oasis that sort of envelopes you where lunch can easily turn into an entire afternoon. This was certainly the case with the mix of garden designers, writers and artists that Tabi had assembled. No one was in any rush to leave especially as the sun had finally decided to stay out for an extended period.

As an aside from the culture fest I was distracted as ever when one guest popped on a pair of sunglasses so chic that I lurched at her across the table to find out where they were from. Obviously I didn’t demand she share the barcode but think they may well have been these.

Finally, I can’t possibly not share with you some images from my visit to Faye Toogood’s new studio space in Borough. She’s a woman after my heart with all her collections of weird objects and oddities that reward a much closer look. Rather than attempt to describe it, I'll let you have a nose around yourself.

More soon,

Twig x

Consider this the first in a fairly regular series: ten things I’ve come across recently that felt worth passing on.

Almost absurdly chic. I don’t really have anything intelligent to add here beyond wanting it immediately.

Seen on the feet of an exceptionally cool stylist on set, I quite literally accosted her for the details. Hers were olive, we discussed my desire for white. Made from the softest glove leather, I’d quite like to start a collection given how often I wear mine.

I have a weakness for strange, tactile objects. This takes it a step further, somewhere between paperweight and sculpture. A desk objet justifying its existence entirely on good looks.

Worthy of its place here for the packaging alone. I like to keep a stash of chic, failsafe gifts to hand for those occasions where a small, thoughtful something is required.

A friend of mine has several Chanel bags. You’d describe them as tired at best, more like really quite knackered (if you could describe yourself as a Chanel bag LOL). The point being she always looks chic AF. I have alerts set for ‘fair’ and satisfactory’, look what just popped up.

Unexpectedly good lingerie is apparently another thing Massimo Dutti is doing really well. This brown silk lace bra peeking from an oversized men’s shirt feels sexy in a good way.

A theme perhaps. Well packaged, thoughtful things that make good gifts. There are more fragrances to choose but orange blossom is the one.

The orange blossom version was a gift from a friend and quickly became something I unnecessarily rationed. I’ve since discovered Scottish lichen, which feels like a slight problem.

If I only had to have one jumper in my life this would be it. Wearing it as I type, buying in black next. I think that makes my feelings pretty clear.

When I don’t know what to wear, I keep my outfit really simple, bung my hair in a ponytail and rely on an excellent pair of earrings to do all the heavy lifting. My birthday’s this month and these are top of the list.

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Fenna Kosfeld - Hands down my favourite piece from the whole of Salone this year, the Mother Dweller light by Fenna Kosfeld. Made from steel, carbonised bone, cotton, biopolymer and charcoal, it feels part Louise Bourgeois, part Alexander Calder and I’ve thought about it everyday since I first saw it.

Mariza Galani - I’ve followed her work for a while but never had the chance to see it in person. Thankfully, she was exhibiting at Alcova. This cherry-red glazed wall sconce had my magpie eyes out on stalks given that it’s the interior version of my beloved burgundy patent skirt. High shine, ultra matt is one of my enduring fixations and needs a post all of it’s own.

Faye Toogood x Tacchini - Anything Faye Toogood puts her hand to is going to be mega and her new collection with Tacchini is just that. I however, was hyper-focusing on the fabrics draping the walls. Upstairs, the perfect shade of palest stone duchess satin took me straight back to Cinderella’s dress in my childhood Ladybird book (perhaps the origin of my high shine obsession). Downstairs, I let out an audible squeal at more cream but this time in a high shine, glossy vinyl.

Villa Pestarini - was open for the first time to the public for Alcova. The villa was designed by Franco Albini in the early 1950s is a superb example of postwar Italian Rationalism. The staircase was the obvious Instagram draw, but I left thinking about this hinged pink glass screen. I was fascinated by the idea of a soft, semi-transparent moveable layer and how it can be used to define a space. The rounded edges, the wobbly grooves. I shall ponder its merits further.

Jil Sander and Apartamento - A welcome pause from the hectic Salone schedule was no doubt exactly what Simone Bellotti intended when he collaborated with Apartamento and Studioutte to create a reference library at the brand’s HQ. Wearing the white gloves I was handed at the entrance, I leafed through a collection of 60 books, each chosen by a different creative from around the world. A reading list of dreams if one was thinking of starting a book club with some serious culture vulture credentials.

(There’s been a bit of an internet furore in the past couple of days about the ‘intrusion’ of the big fashion brands ‘hijacking’ Salone. There are obvious culprits there, but I would certainly exclude something as thoughtful as this from that discussion).

Aesop - This year Aesop launched its first lighting collection. The lights were as beautiful as you would expect, but what resonated with me most, as it did last year, was the immersive experience of the launch itself. The brand excels at such things.

Set in the Cloisters of Santa Maria del Carmine, salvaged trompe l’oeil facades were repurposed and suspended from a scaffolding framework. Three singers and a cellist performed each with their hands, feet and faces painted gold. Together this created an atmosphere of contemplation and reflection. It seems to me that the brands making the most noise are the ones prompting quiet.

Interno Venosta - The Dimore founders new brand presented their latest collection at an apartment never opened to the public before designed by architect by Osvaldo Borsani. Clearly a no notes creative combination there, but I’d like to know who did the flowers? Towering vases of pale pink ‘Cornus’ were placed in every room. A styling masterclass of one variety, repeated over and over, for maximum understated impact.

Over and Over and Over and Over by 6:Am - Half the excitement of Milan is the constant shift in setting. One minute you’re wandering the rooms of the chicest, secret apartment and the next you’re crossing town to a dis-used civic building. This year, I found myself in the vast disused changing room of Pisicina Guido Romana, staring at a towering installation by Murano glass studio 6:Am. First designed for the Bottega Veneta SS26 show set, the batch blown glass cubes were shaped to resemble carved stone. I left thinking about the impact of repetition at scale and the way that light magically animates it.

Kohler x Flamingo Estate - My last stop in Milan and a fitting close to the week. A bathhouse set among a garden of wild flowers and a meditation on the ritual of slowing down in nature. 200 Flamingo Estate candles adorned the walls proving again that simple repetition is often the most visually impactful. HRH Martha Stewart was at the breakfast and I flew home thinking about a pre-social media celebrity and how rare that now feels.

Misc. & A.O.B:

Antica Trattoria della Pesca - Salone girls lunch is becoming a tradition here.

Pettinaroli - Roughly translated from the Italian, they make leather ‘pocket emptiers’ in the most excellent colours.

Laila Gohar for Arket - Went on launch day, went back the next day. Tells you all you need to know.

Lutz Morris - Showroom visit. I’ll take all of it but this is the bag that made me go a bit funny.

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